


A Right- and Left-  Hand Thing

by Sam KW (samudee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:10:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samudee/pseuds/Sam%20KW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone ever wonder why Hutch was so pissed-off with Starsky that morning in the episode 'Captain Dobey you are dead'? Well… This is my version of what may have transpired!</p><p>What did Starsky do the previous night to make Hutch so angry that morning?<br/>Missing scenes from 'Captain Dobey You are Dead'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Right- and Left-  Hand Thing

**_At the precinct… one morning._ **

  
Hutch looked a bit blue in his teal sweatshirt. He appeared to be extremely busy with report writing. Hutch didn’t even acknowledge the presence of Starsky who had been sitting in front of Hutch's desk for the last ten minutes.  
  
"Why don't you just admit it?" Starsky broke the silence. "You're ticked off because of what happened last night," he said waving his S &W Model 59 around.  
  
  
  
Hutch took a sip of his coffee. "No, I'm not," he said indifferently, and continued to work on his report.  
  
 _Yeah, right!_ Did Hutch actually think Starsky would believe him? Starsky shook his head.  
  
"Starsky, what's the color of the second car in the smash up? Red or orange?"  
  
"Neither," Starsky said smugly. He knew Hutch was trying to avoid his questions. "It was Flamingo."  
  
"Flamingo?" asked Hutch.  
  
"Yes." _Why did Hutch second guess him? Didn't he know that Starsky knew everything about colors, especially if they were red or orange or anything in-between!_ "My mother had a '47 Studebaker. It was the same color," Starsky confirmed his answer.  
  
"No kidding." Hutch maintained his neutral expression, but his lips sat at a straight line.  
  
"No," said Starsky. He studied Hutch for a second; "You sure it had nothing to do with last night?" he asked again.  
  
Hutch's eyes were flashing dangerously, and that meant only one thing. He was mad, and given the opportunity he'd strangle Starsky in a flash!  
  
"Yeah. I'm sure," replied Hutch and stopped his typing for a moment. He stretched himself across the desk and reached the bottom drawer. He grabbed a book and tossed it to Starsky. "I've been meaning to give that to you for some time, now," he said and turned back to the writing.  
  
Starsky read the title. " _Madame Olga's Self-Help Program to become Right-Handed?_ " he looked at Hutch very confused. Why'd he have to become right-handed?  
  
"Starsky, if your best friend can't tell you, who can?" Hutch tore off the report from the type writer and quickly walked into Dobey's office. He placed his write-up on Dobeys' desk and came back. "Sooner or later, you've got to realize that this whole world was designed for right-handed people. You're just out of step."  
  
"I do all right." Starsky replied, pretending to be uninterested in Hutch's suggestion.  
  
Hutch gulped down the rest of his coffee. "Aren't you a little bit tired of doing just _all right_?"  
  
Starsky recalled the events of the previous day. Where were his left and right hands when all hell broke loose the other night? _Of course!_ That's what all this was about. So Starsky _was_ right! Hutch's bad mood had _everything_ to do with what happened last night.  
  
Starsky had some big-time damage control to attend to.  
  
*************************  
  
 ** _Later that day… at the Pits._**  
  
Starsky and Hutch settled at a table with a couple of house special burgers and drinks. Instead of sitting right next to Starsky, like he generally does, Hutch sat right in front of him.  
  
Hutch was still mad. Starsky had to get this over with. Talking wasn't one of his strong points, but he had to get Hutch back to his normal happy-self. "Come on Hutch, you know it was an accident. You can't be mad at me for-"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Hutch cut him off effectively.  
  
"But _I_ want to!" exclaimed Starsky. His appetite seemed to fade away. He couldn't bear to see Hutch in a foul mood. "You are killin' me here, with all those icy cold stares."  
  
"Icy-cold, huh? Do you really want to know how that feels?" Hutch snapped.  
  
Starsky pushed his burger away. "I told you, Hutch. It was an accident. I wouldn't do that on purpose. You got to believe me!"  
  
"Believe you?" Hutch asked angrily. He bit into his burger with all his might.  
  
"That was my first time, you know."  
  
"Tell me about it!" Hutch rolled his eyes and looked away.  
  
"I had _too many_ things to handle! And it was just… just too much!" Starsky said dejectedly. He felt terrible of the mishap that happened the other day. He had planned everything so very well. "I couldn't hold on," he said in a barely audible voice. "I was too excited."  
  
"I know, Starsky! I know, okay? I know it's not your fault!" Hutch wiped around his mouth with the paper napkin. "That's not why I'm mad."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm mad because you just made a big mess of it. Those were my best pants!"  
  
"I will buy you another pair. And I won't let something like that happen again." Starsky promised.  
  
"Again? You want to try it _again_?"  
  
"Of course! You think I wouldn't be able to do it?"  
  
"I don't want to…" Hutch began, but stopped himself. "Listen… Starsk… It's not like you can be an expert overnight!"  
  
"I will practice! I trust my will power and strength. And… maybe next time err… you can help, too." Starsky suggested.  
  
" _Help_ you? Like coming to your apartment _naked_?"  
  
"Yes- _No_! **No**. what I meant was… you can avoid wearing good pants?"  
  
"Of course! If you tell me what to expect, _beforehand_!"  
  
"I mean… you can wear some old pants ... something loose that can be easily taken off… you know… I mean… I'm sure I will have the strength next time, but--" Starsky juggled his words hoping Hutch would understand.  
  
Hutch sighed and studied Starsky for a minute. "Eat your burger, Starsky. We have work to do."  
  
****************************  
  
 ** _Two days later… Starsky's apartment._**  
  
Starsky hopped back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, singing and dancing to the music of Captain and Tennille's _Love will keep us together_.  
  
 _Love, love will keep us together - Think of me babe whenever_  
Some sweet talking girl comes along singing her song  
Don't mess around, You gotta be strong  
Just Stop, 'cause I really love You - Stop, I'll be thinking of you  
Look in my heart and let love keep us together  
  
Starsky had everything together this time. He would do things differently, today. Everything was planned to the very last detail. Starsky wasn't the type who went for candlelit dinners, but Hutch was. So… Starsky bought two large candles for the dinner table, candlesticks included!  
  
Hutch dropped by at Starsky's apartment wearing a pair of denim jeans and a black t-shirt.  
  
Starsky was surprised. Hutch had not gone for an old worn out loose pair of pants as Starsky had suggested. Did that mean he trusted Starsky? Starsky was even more determined to not to disappoint Hutch today.  
  
"So what have you got here, Starsk?" Hutch eyed the goodies on the dinner table. "You didn't have to go to this extent, buddy."  
  
"I want everything to be perfect." Starsky set the table beaming happily.  
  
"So… we are going to do this at the table, this time?" Hutch asked looking around.  
  
"Yes! Like I said, it's going to be perfect. Why don't you sit down," Starsky said, pulling a chair out for Hutch. "I'm not going to use my hands the way I did last time."  
  
"No? Then how would you-"  
  
"You know, Hutch… about this left-handed thing-" Starsky ignored Hutch's question. He bent over Hutch at the table and propped up on his right elbow, cradling the side of his head in his palm. "I don't have to be right-handed!" he said, skimming is fingers along Hutch's bare arm.  
  
"Oh yeah?" Hutch asked as softly as the swirls made by Starsky's fingers.  
  
"In fact, being left-handed is an advantage when _you_ are right-handed." Starsky stared steadily into Hutch's eyes.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Just think of us together, and what we do together; starting from the very simple things… like drinking from the same coffee cup. If I sat on your _right_ side, you don't even have to reach over to grab the cup from me. You can take it right away from _my left hand_. And the same went for fries and chips you pick off my lunches."  
  
"Hmm…" Hutch remained thoughtful for a while.  
  
Starsky stood up. "How come you didn't figure this out, before, huh? _Mr. Brains in this partnership_?"  
  
"You have a point there, Starsk. That would work, if we are sitting… or standing… but if we were lying down-"  
  
" _Lying down_?" Starsky scowled. "Why the heck would you want to lie down to drink coffee or eat fries?" he shook his head. "You are weird- you know that?"  
  
Hutch grit his teeth. "What I meant was-"  
  
"Back to your previous question," Starsky said, stopping Hutch from going into further explanations.  
  
" _Previous_ question? Which one?" Hutch asked, squinting his eyes.  
  
"About why I'm not gonna use both my hands at the same time, like I did earlier-"  
  
"Ah- yes- So…?"  
  
"I have done some of it already – So I don't have to do all of it, this time."  
  
"What do you mean you've _done it_ already?" Hutch was surprised. "You aren't going to put up a show today?"  
  
"You don't need _that_ kind of a show, Hutch?" Starsky walked up to the kitchen and picked up the bottle of rum and the shot glass.  
  
"I don't?" Hutch asked.  
  
Starsky stood facing Hutch on the opposite side of the table.  "Nope. I'm not going to balance a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher full of cranberry and pineapple juice topped with ice above my _left_ -shoulder, and a bottle of rum and shot glass in my _right_ hand, and try mixing the drinks while dancing to the tune of _The Tennessee Waltz_. That's how I tripped on a bump on the floor that wasn't even there, lost my footing, lost my balance, and spilt all the cranberry juice and ice on you, on your shirt, and your _best_ pants! _No Sir! Not again_."  
  
Starsky picked up the glasses that were already on the table. "Today, I already have the ice in here." He poured a generous amount of rum into the glasses "And now I'm gonna pour the juice over the ice," he said filling the glasses with the juice mix. "And serve it to you like a real man," he said proudly, placing the cocktail in front of Hutch, without spilling a drop of anything, anywhere.  
  
"You got that right, partner!" Hutch laughed, raising his drink.  
  
"No more icy-cold crap down your pants," said Starsky picking up his glass. "And to your next question-"  
  
"Which one?" Hutch asked, taking a sip from his drink.  
  
"The one about us lying down when I'm left handed and you're right handed."  
  
Hutch drew his brows together in confusion.  
  
"That's when I'm gonna be on your _left_ side," Starsky grinned, wriggling his eyebrows.  
  
Hutch choked on his drink and broke out in a coughing fit, spilling the icy cocktail all over his shirt and pants.  
  
******************************* END  ***********************************************


End file.
